


Once Upon a Time in Panem

by SpartanGuard



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3421394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpartanGuard/pseuds/SpartanGuard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Aurora and Phillip find themselves in the Hunger Games, they aren't prepared for the effect it will have on the rest of their lives; when past victors Emma and Killian find themselves in an alliance, sparks fly. The future of Panem rests on them. (OUAT Hunger Games AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro: The Reaping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing; OUAT belongs to ABC and Hunger Games to Suzanne Collins.  
> This is the first of many parts; stay tuned!

**Intro: The Reaping**

People had been trickling into the town square for about half an hour, but most would wait until the very last minute, which was exactly what Phillip and Aurora Rose were doing. They were sitting under the large tree in her back yard at the mayor's house.

"You have nothing to fear, Aurora," Philip said while holding her hand. "Your name is only in there five times-your chances are next to nothing."

"It's not me I fear for; it's you. How many times is your name in there?" she asked.

"Don't worry about me; I'll be fi—"

"How many, Phillip?"

The boy sighed. "33." Phillip had had to enter his name in the Reaping multiple times per year in exchange for the tesserae that helped his family—his mother and his two younger siblings—survive. "My chances are still low, though; I know several boys with as many as 50 slips in there."

"Phillip, I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said, unsure of what else he could say to comfort her. Then he remembered what he had in his pocket. He reached down and pulled out a necklace; a silver pendant shaped like a swan hung off a simple chain.

"Here. This is for you. Swans are a symbol of love and loyalty; I will love you and be true to you as long as I live." It was sappy, but he didn't care.

"Oh, Phillip! You didn't have to-it must have cost a fortune!" It did, but he didn't want her to know that.

"Let me put it on you." She turned to face away from him and he gently reached around her to clasp the necklace around her neck. When it was secure, she turned back to face him and found his lips.

A loud, tinny voice over the loudspeakers interrupted them just then: "All citizens, you have 20 minutes to report to the town square. The Reaping ceremony will commence shortly."

They broke apart, and Phillip stood and offered Aurora his rough hand. "Shall we?"

Taking his hand, Aurora joined him, and then brought her lips to his again. No words needed to be exchanged.

Hand-in-hand, they made their way to the square, signed in, and joined their respective groupings for the reaping. Aurora took her place with the other 16-year-old girls; despite her position of relative comfort as the mayor's daughter, she looked and dressed no differently than the others. But her auburn hair fell over her shoulders, and caught the sun in a way that couldn't help but hold Phillip's attention, even from his position across the way with the 16-year-old boys.

Shortly, the ceremony began. Aurora's father, Stefan, led a small procession to the stage, including the only living victor from District 12, Mulan Fa. Despite her slight build, Mulan had proven to be an especially fierce warrior in her games.

After a short video explaining the games (as if anyone didn't know what they were at this point), narrated by Panem's President Gold, Mayor Rose welcomed Maleficent Horn, their district's escort from the Capitol, to the stage. True to her name, Maleficent wore a hat with two large, horn-like appendages, which complemented the dramatic arcs on the shoulders of her short, black dress. _Ridiculous_ , Phillip thought.

"Thank you, Mayor Rose. Let's get started, shall we? Ladies first!" Maleficent reached into the bowl to her left, filled with thin strips of paper, all with the names of the girls standing before her. She selected one, unfolded it, and stepped back to the microphone.

"District 12, your female tribute for the 74th Hunger Games is...Aurora Rose."

Several hearts stopped at once, but Phillip was struck especially hard. _No, no, no; not her_ , he thought. He waited to see if anyone would volunteer, but that never happened in District 12. He watched as she slowly worked her way toward the stage, her eyes cast down the whole time, her hand at the pendant. She had been so concerned for him, but he never thought he'd have to imagine a life without her. In an instant, he knew what he had to do.

"And now, on to the gentlemen," Maleficent said, heading toward the other bowl. Once she made her selection, she announced, "Thomas Clar—"

"I VOLUNTEER!" Phillip ran forward to the clearing and shouted. "I volunteer as tribute." If there was any chance of keeping Aurora alive, this was it. He didn't doubt her skills, but she knew little of surviving.

"Well, isn't this a surprise? A volunteer! Come forward, young man," Maleficent commanded from the stage. He ran up and embraced Aurora when he got there, before being beckoned to the mic. "Tell us, what is your name?"

"Phillip Prince."

"Thank you, Phillip, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

* * *

From his home in District 4, Killian Jones, victor of the 60th Hunger Games, observed the events in District 12 as they were broadcast. He was about to make his way to his own town square for the local Reaping, and from there would head with this year's tributes to the Capitol as one of their mentors.

"What a bloody fool," he heard himself say, but he didn't even believe himself. He had been hiding behind a cocky, arrogant facade for so long, that he found he even wore it when he was alone. In reality, the boy's actions hit a little too close to home: Killian was one of the only people who could say he survived being reaped twice, but that was only because the first time his name was pulled from that bowl when he was 12, his older brother, Liam, had stepped forward in his stead. The boy even had similar coloring as Liam, with his short, brown hair and blue eyes, and looked to be about the same age and have the same narrow, strong build.

For the sake of the boy and the boy's apparent love, Killian truly hoped that this Phillip would meet a better fate than Liam had: poisoned by the dreamshade plant, dying painfully and alone. It was a vision Killian had never been able to shake, especially when his own name was drawn again six years later.

Regardless of the outcome, the boy was about to find out that the games would only ever cause pain, even if he managed to win—a lesson Killian had learned the hard way several times over; Liam had only been the beginning.

* * *

Emma Nolan could hear her mother gasping from downstairs. "David! Look at that—he volunteered to protect the woman he loves!" "Yes, my dear; I'm sitting right here." It surprised Emma that her mother was still capable of such girlish outbursts after years of watching innocent children in her charge be murdered as she watched on. As cruel as that sounds, it was true; Mary Margaret Nolan and her husband, David—who were victors in back-to-back years, and were practically considered local royalty—had long served as District 7's mentors, with one exception: the year their daughter, Emma, was reaped (Mary Margaret's best friend, Ruby Lucas, had the honor that year).

Her parents had finally had enough, though, and so Emma found herself packing a suitcase in anticipation of her first year as a mentor, alongside her best friend, Graham Humbert. To the rest of the world, they were more than that—as far as the Capitol and its citizens were concerned, Emma and Graham were true loves, living happily with their son, Henry. And she did love Graham, but more as a brother than a lover, and she knew he felt the same toward her. Their shared experiences in the games brought them together as friends and as parents, but she had long since vowed to never fall in love again; not after what happened with Neal.

"Mom, hurry up! Dad's already packed. You don't want to be late!" Henry ran into her room, shouting. He knew Graham wasn't his biological father, but as the man who raised him, it was only fitting to call him Dad. Honestly, he looked more like Graham's son than Emma's, with their shared dark, messy hair; she'd hoped Henry would inherit her green eyes, but they were definitely Neal's.

"Almost done," Emma replied, zipping up her bag. "Just missing one thing: a hug." She walked over to her son and wrapped him tight. "I'm going to miss you, kid."

"I'll miss you, too, Mom. Are you sure you have to go?"

"Yeah, I do. It's my turn. Plus, I think your grandparents are looking forward to having you to themselves for a few weeks." Henry laughed at that, but hugged just a bit tighter. "I love you, Henry." "Love you, too."

Graham poked his head into the room. "Ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be."

"Shall we, then?"

* * *

_Reviews are appreciated!_


	2. Chapter 1: The Tribute Parade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing; OUAT belongs to ABC and Hunger Games to Suzanne Collins.  
> This chapter is focused on District 12/Aurora, Phillip, and Mulan; the rest will likely be broader.

**Chapter 1: The Tribute Parade**

Aurora was fighting not to let everything overwhelm her—and she hadn't even gotten to the hard part of the games. She had just traveled over a thousand miles from home to a completely foreign city, with strange people who wore strange clothes and led even stranger lives. And she had just spent the last few hours being plucked and prodded by a few overeager beauticians (she only caught the name of one, Blue, which was appropriate given the color of the woman's hair). She was alone for now, sitting on a cold metal table, so she took the opportunity to reflect on the past few days and try to let everything soak in.

As the mayor's daughter, she led a relative life of luxury, compared to the rest of impoverished District 12. But even the train they took to the Capitol was more posh than anything back home—fancy silverware, mahogany table tops, and plush beds that put even the homes in the Victor's Village to shame. She and Phillip felt extremely out of place in their well-worn clothes next to the expensive upholstery, and especially next to their escort. Once they finally got to the Capitol, she wasn't prepared for the city's sheer cleanliness—she'd never known anything but the soot-covered buildings in 12. The air was somehow fresher, despite the number of gas-powered vehicles. Their twelfth-floor residence in the Tribute Tower gave an impressive view of the city, especially at night when everything was lit up in a rainbow of colors and sounds. It was all too much.

The first thing Aurora did after they had bid their families goodbye and boarded the train to the Capitol was confront Phillip. Being reaped was an emotional rollercoaster on its own; but then to watch him step forward and throw his life away along with hers was both heartwarming and heartwrenching. She was touched at the romantic gesture, but she in no way approved it.

"Phillip Prince! What the hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled as soon as they had a moment alone. The train had numerous compartments, so it wasn't hard to find one where they'd be alone.

She didn't give him a chance to answer before she was yelling again. "What will your mother do? Your family? You can't help them if you're dead, Phillip! They won't survive without you!"

"What was I supposed to do? Just leave you to fend for yourself?" Phillip angrily replied. "You don't know how to survive, Aurora! You've never had to fight for your existence!"

His truth stung a bit—but she was also angry that he doubted her. "You don't think I can learn? I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself! You didn't need to waste your life by trying to save mine!"

"Aurora, I have no life without you." The honesty behind his words took her by surprise. She knew he loved her, and she felt the same, but she hadn't quite realized the depth of his adoration. He continued, "You'll be just fine without me, but me? My life has no joy if you're not in it."

Aurora quickly and strongly embraced him in response. "Don't even think that; I'd be lost without you, too."

Moving so he could look her in the eye, Phillip said, "Make me a promise. No matter what happens in the games, you do whatever you can to survive." "Only if you do the same." He nodded, "I will. I love you." "I love you, too."

Thinking of Phillip made her wonder where he was right then, and what all they had done to him. But her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a quiet knock on the door. "Come in," she called out.

The door opened and in walked a woman, tall, thin, and blonde. She was dressed much simpler than the majority of what Aurora had seen in the Capitol so far—a plain white shirt and black pants—and had her hair pulled back. The only thing out of the ordinary (from Aurora's point of view) was her silver eyeliner.

The woman approached Aurora, held out her hand, and said, "Hi, I'm Ella. I'll be your stylist." Aurora returned the greeting, adding, "So, you're here to make me look pretty?" On a normal occasion, Aurora would have loved being pampered and getting dressed up, but given the setting, it was hard to find joy.

"I'm here to help you make an impression, but I guess making you look pretty helps," Ella replied, smiling. She seemed almost as nervous as Aurora.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"This is actually my first year."

"You're not going to put us in coal miner outfits, are you?" Aurora shuddered to think about what District 12's tributes normally wore for the tribute parade—but what else could you wear when your district was known for coal mining? Year after year, it had been dirty overalls and headlamps. Even the thin shift gown she was wearing now would be better.

"Oh no! Never. I think you'll like what I have planned. Would you like to come with me and try it on?"

Aurora hesitated, reaching for her pendant (it was becoming a nervous habit, yet comforting). There didn't seem to be anything sinister about Ella, but Aurora still felt like she was just being dressed and led to slaughter.

Ella came a little closer when Aurora didn't immediately make a move. "What's that, on your necklace?"

Aurora swallowed and, reluctantly, showed her the pendant. "It's a swan. Phillip gave it to me before...before we were…" For some reason, she couldn't finish the sentence. It was as if the reality of what was going on had just finally hit her. She might not live another week. Or she might, and Phillip wouldn't. Or they could both be gone. Or...or...

Before she knew it, Ella was right in front of her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and giving a soft smile. It was the first sign of sympathy anyone from the Capitol had shown Aurora, and it helped keep the rising tide of emotion down.

"May I see it?" Ella asked. Aurora silently moved her hand so Ella could see the pendant, and Ella took it gently in her hands. "Have you ever seen one?"

"Of course," Aurora replied. "They live in all the ponds in District 12."

"I've heard they're beautiful. Is that why Phillip gave it to you?"

Aurora couldn't help but blush at that. _Someone from the Capitol thinks I'm beautiful?_ She repeated to Ella what Phillip had told her when he gave it, about how they represent love and loyalty.

Ella smiled. "I have heard that, but I've also heard that swans are very fierce and protective."

"Yes, they can be—I got too close to a nest once, and one came running at me." Phillip had dared her too, actually; the memory made her laugh to herself.

"They're actually banned in the Capitol because of that."

"Like, as pets?" People in the Capitol were a little out there; Aurora thought that seemed like something they'd do here.

Ella laughed; a clear, friendly sound. "That wouldn't surprise me, but no—even as wild birds. Anything remotely violent like that is banned."

"Except for the Games." How odd that a populace whose main entertainment was watching children kill each other was scared of a bird.

"I guess they think that if we only see it from afar, we won't rebell, too." Huh, Aurora thought. She'd always looked at the people of the Capitol as being privileged; it never dawned on her that they might be just as trapped in this system as the people in the districts.

"Come on, now; let's get you ready," Ella said, offering her hand again with a smile.

Aurora only paused a moment this time, but then jumped off the table and took Ella's hand. Ella had been honest with her, and was one of the first people to really do that in this whole ordeal. Aurora followed her out of the room, and decided that she'd probably follow Ella anywhere.

* * *

Mulan stood waiting at the last black chariot in the line. She was early, she knew, but as the youngest mentor and from the poorest district, she had to take initiative if she wanted to be successful.

Unfortunately, her own mentor—a frail old man who had won one of the early games—promptly passed away soon after she won, so she never really had anyone to teach her how be a mentor herself. Once or twice, someone from a neighboring district had lent a hand or dropped a bit of advice, but when everyone was competing for the same resources (and no one really wanted to ally with District 12, due to their lack thereof), it was hard to make any real connections.

 _It's only your third year; you'll get better at this_ , she told herself. Most of the other mentors had either been at it for a while, or had at least been around long enough to know people. She was tempted to seek out the new District 7 mentor, Emma, but saw that the blonde woman was engrossed in a conversation with her husband (maybe? Mulan wasn't sure if they were ever formally married, though they were definitely together) and co-mentor, Graham, and their tributes, who were dressed as what could only be described as sparkly lumberjacks.

 _Poor kids_ , Mulan thought. _Though we may not be in for much better_. In an attempt to be original, in her games, the stylists had put her and her fellow tribute in little more than underwear and painted chalky black marks all over their bodies to emulate coal. To say it was embarrassing was an understatement. _Thank God for new stylists this year_.

Regardless of what her tributes were wearing, she found herself looking forward to their arrival, if only to have someone to talk to. Though, if she were being truly honest with herself, she was most looking forward to seeing Aurora again. _No, pull it together. Don't think about her_.

Mulan had become very good at not becoming attached to people since her games; even from her family, she was a bit closed off and isolated—she was too scared of the pain that would come from losing them, so the colder she was, the easier it would be. But the past few days with Aurora had thawed her ever so slightly, and it terrified her. How unfortunate that the person to do that was someone who was almost guaranteed to leave her? She recalled a rumour that it happened once in District 4, when Killian Jones won the games; but his mentor, Milah, died a few years later.

Even if Mulan was somehow able to coach Aurora to a victory, it would be hollow because Aurora would have lost her own love. Mulan had seen the level of Aurora and Phillip's commitment to each other from the moment he volunteered, and even more so on the train to the Capitol. They hardly spent more than a few minutes apart and refused individual coaching.

"Anything you tell her, I can hear, too," Phillip insisted the first time they sat down to discuss the games.

 _Oh great, a stubborn one_. "I have to warn you, then. You won't like all that I have to say."

"What is there to like about any of this?" Aurora snapped, taking Mulan by surprise. Until that point, she had written the girl off, but there was clearly a fighting spirit there. (This was probably the point, Mulan decided, when she started falling for the mayor's daughter.) "Either help us together, or don't help us at all."

"Then let me get this out of the way: only one of you can come out." Surely they knew that, but Mulan watched as both tributes looked down, and Aurora squeezed Phillip's hand. Mulan continued, "I know you think you're in this together, but when it comes down to it, you'll be fighting against each other for your lives. Don't forget that for a second. There's little room for friendship in the games, let alone love."

"We know," Phillip said, tentatively. "But we want to fight to protect each other." Aurora nodded in agreement.

Mulan sighed. _This will not be easy_. "Let me ask you this, then: do you want to protect each other, or do you want to survive? Because you can only do one."

After a moment, Phillip said, "I want to protect her as long as possible." "Phillip, we talked about this—" Aurora tried to say, before being cut off. "I know, Aurora, but if either of us makes it out of this, it has to be you." She tried to protest again, but to little avail.

They went on to discuss skills and strategy, and what they might expect in the arena. The more they talked, the more Mulan found herself drawn to Aurora and her determination to not be a damsel in distress—though, as they found, she essentially was, with no fighting skills to speak of. But her desire to be more distinguished her from other tributes Mulan had come across.

Now that they were in the Capitol, Mulan didn't dare get overly hopeful, but if Aurora could learn anything in the training center, she had a fighting shot. She selfishly wanted to do all she could to get the girl to win, but if she intentionally let the boy die, she couldn't live with herself. _There has to be a solution…_

Mulan was pulled from her thoughts by the arrival of the tributes. The sight almost took her breath away: both were dressed in all-black, form-fitting outfits that seemed to shimmer as they moved. Strips of fabric hung off their shoulders and back like capes, billowing behind them as they walked, creating an almost ethereal image. Dark makeup made them both seem older and harder than they were. It almost made her feel underdressed in her black slacks and blazer.

Recollecting her compusure, Mulan addressed them. "Well, you clean up nice."

Maleficent, who followed them everywhere, chimed in. "They do, don't they? Doesn't happen often!" Mulan had to hide her eye roll; that woman was so oblivious—but that was par for the course in the Capitol.

"Ella, fantastic job," Mulan told the stylist.

"Don't congratulate me yet—they aren't quite done. How much longer 'til the parade starts?"

"Only a few minutes, I think."

Despite their intense outward appearance, Mulan could tell the tributes were nervous; they were holding hands and whispering to each other. They definitely got their strength from each other, which gave Mulan an idea.

"When you're in the chariot, keep holding hands." The two seemed slightly taken aback, but of course didn't protest. "Show the world how strong you are together, and dare them to stop you. This parade is all about creating an impression, and if we can create one of strength, we'll have a much better shot in the games."

"Then we'll do it," Aurora replied confidently. They climbed up in to the chariot, hands clasped.

"Finishing touch!" Ella smiled as she approached their backs. Using what looked like a lighter, she applied synthetic fire to the cape-like strips on the tribute's costumes. The light from the fire combined with Aurora's red hair to give the impression that she was truly aflame, inside and out.

Mulan could hear the cheers from the crowd as they rode out into the pavillion, and knew that they had just become the Capitol's darlings.

 _Maybe, just maybe_ , she thought, _I can get them both out_.

* * *

_Reviews are much appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 2: Getting Some Bearings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing; OUAT belongs to ABC and Hunger Games to Suzanne Collins.

The first day in the training center was done, and the District 4 tributes were waiting for dinner back in their quarters with their mentors. It was only the first day, he knew, but Killian didn’t like their chances this year. He’d never let that on to the teenagers, though; they were nervous enough as it was. Even in their lodgings, where they had the chance to relax and indulge in the luxuries that were standard in the Capitol, they seemed on edge. Killian couldn’t decide, though, if it was due to the fact that they were being treated to more opulence than they’d ever seen before (although spartan by Capitol standards, the Tribute Tower was a veritable palace compared to the seaside villages in District 4) or just the overall anxiety of the situation; he remembered feeling overwhelmed by both during his games.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think their tributes had what it took—the boy, William, was a decent fighter and clever, and the girl, Ursula, had a fierce streak that seemed to be a mile long. But this year’s group of Careers was strong as usual, and the pair from 12 wouldn’t go down easily.

As they waited for the meal, Killian and his mentor partner, Ariel DelMar, began to discuss strategy with the tributes. Ariel was the first tribute he mentored who went on to win. On the surface, she seemed sweet and demure; but when she had a trident in her hands, she was downright scary.  

“It’s not a bad idea to form an alliance early on. It can really help you get farther in the games,” Ariel said. “Were there any tributes you noticed today that you’d want to work with? We can talk to their mentors and set something up.”

“Actually, yeah,” William said. “The pair from District 7—Ursula and I talked to them a bit, and they seemed pretty cool.” Ursula nodded in agreement.

“That’s actually pretty smart,” Ariel said, looking over at Killian. “District 7 is forest, we’re water; that covers almost every arena scenario.”

“Aye, that it does. Good thinking, Will,” Killian said with a small smile, before turning serious. “I do have to warn you, though: the hardest part of making an alliance is breaking it. You won’t have the luxury of forming a deep attachment with anyone; you may even be faced with a situation in which you and an ally are the only ones left.” He had a daily reminder of that: where his left hand should be, he instead wore a steel hook—what had been a sponsor gift in the games—that he used to kill Zelena, his ally from District 2, after she took his hand with her dagger. He wore it to remind him of all he’d lost, and to never keep fighting for what was right. He would find a way to avenge them someday, Liam and...and... _Don’t think about her right now_. He subtly shook his head to get him out of his thoughts, before he fell too deep in.

“If you’re still interested, we’ll talk to the District 7 mentors tomorrow,” Ariel told the kids (they were, after all, just kids). They glanced and each other, nodding, and Ursula said, “Yeah, we’d like that.” “Ok, then. Killian, have you seen the new mentors for 7? Who’s doing it this year?”

Killian replied, “Well, Graham Humbert was the only guy available to take over for David; and I assumed Ruby Lucas would take over for Mary Margaret?” The Nolans had long been a staple at the games, and he was sad to see them go, even though he was pretty sure David still held a grudge toward Killian for his killing of a District 7 tribute during his games.

“No—actually, I think it’s their daughter, Emma.” _Well, this I can go along with_ , Killian thought. Emma Nolan won the games the year after he won, but had generally kept her space from the Capitol as she had a son a couple years after her victory; even the few times she was in town, she stuck to District 7 company. He wasn’t sure why, but he was intrigued by her—perhaps it was the fact that she came from a family of victors, or just the general mystery surrounding her. Either way, he looked forward to their meeting tomorrow.

“Don’t even try, Killian.” Ariel’s mocking voice took him from his thoughts. “What?” “I know that look on your face. She’s with Graham,” the redhead teased.

“You wound me, mermaid,” he threw back, using the nickname he knew she hated (but would never live down on account of her strong swimming abilities—skills that helped her survive her games). “Do you truly believe that I see every pretty woman as a conquest? I haven’t gone after you yet, have I?” he said with a wink and a raised eyebrow. Ariel laughed. “Guess I can’t argue with that logic.”

Down at the training center the next day, he saw his tributes approach the boy and girl from 7, and the little group stuck together, showing each other skills they learned back home. He surveyed the rest of the room to see what other districts were doing (though it was a bit hard to distinguish them when everyone was wearing the same games-issued black top and pants).He was able to figure out that the Careers were already in a pack, as could be assumed, and he saw the girl from 12 working with an archery instructor; his brow furrowed when she nailed the center of the target. _One more person to worry about_.

“So far, so good!” Ariel said, smiling. He had no idea how she was able to hold on to her optimism—he knew she’d been close to the boy she was reaped with, Eric, yet she never showed any residual pain from his loss and still had enough of a shining outlook for both mentors. _Someone has to_ , Killian thought to himself.

“I think I see Emma and Graham over there,” Ariel said, pointing. He too spotted Emma’s blonde ponytail across the room. “After you, lass.”

—————-

Phillip was running. Toward what, he had no idea; but he knew he was running away from the worst of the carnage, leaving broken branches and crushed leaves in his wake.

It took every fiber of his being to not go back and look for Aurora, to make sure she was okay. Instead, he channelled that energy into keeping his legs moving. He had no idea how long he’d been going, but the burning in his lungs and legs told him it had a few hours. He’d need to find water, maybe some food, and, judging by the waning light, some shelter, which wouldn’t be too hard to come by in the thick forest.

He finally slowed down and tried to get his bearings, while recapping the events so far. When he first arrived in the arena, after rising up on a platform from the underground holding cell, he saw a body of water to one side of the cornucopia—but, to be honest, he was more concerned with locating Aurora than getting the lay of the land. And to his utter dismay, his love was nowhere to be seen—likely on the other side of the large, horn-like structure. _I bet they did that on purpose_ , he thought, shaking his head.

Mulan’s words edged into his head as he stood on the platform, waiting for the countdown to the start of the games to finish. _Only one of you can come out._ He knew they’d be a target if they stuck together, especially after they got 10s in the training center. (Who knew Aurora was a natural with a bow and arrow? She had a rough start, but caught on quick.) If he had any chance at helping her win, it might be a good idea to steer clear of her for a bit.

There was a backpack on the ground not far from him, and the treeline of the thick woods wasn’t far off. He could grab it and be gone fast. He didn’t dare head into the thick of the cornucopia, where all the weapons lay; he wasn’t all that great with them, anyway, though he had discovered he had the strength to do some damage with a knife. But he knew he’d need to rely on his survival skills for the most part.

“12...11...10...9…” he heard overhead. Almost show time. He took a deep breath.

“8...7...6...5…” He began to crouch, ready to jump.

“4...3…” _You can do this._

“2…” _I love you, Aurora._

“1.” _BUZZZZZZZZZZZ_

Chaos broke out immediately as he made a running dive for the bag. Somehow, no one noticed him in their mad dash to the center. He grabbed the pack, slung it over his shoulder, and made for the trees.

Once he was a bit hidden, he took a glance back. He knew the games were dangerous, but he wasn’t prepared for the scene in front of him: at least two tributes had knives in their necks, and the corresponding cannon booms he’d just heard indicated their demise. Farther over, two girls were engaged in hand-to-hand combat over a pack, until the larger of the two got her hands on the other’s neck and gave a strong, sickening twist. _Boom_.

His heart rate rose when he caught a glimpse of red hair on the far side of the clearing, but it disappeared into the opposing tree line as soon as he saw it. _Please, Aurora, get as far away as you can_. And that’s when he took off.

Now, hours later, he was somewhat acquainted with his surroundings, and the frequency of the cannon thunder had died off, though he hadn’t had a mind to count the number of booms. He’d managed to find a thick copse of trees near a clear stream, and whoever put together his pack had the sense to include a canteen. So he was hiding out, getting some rest, and waiting for daylight. The spot on his arm where they had injected the tracking sensor was itching, but he hated to think what might happen if he scratched it; anything could happen in the games.

A bit later, he heard the national anthem from the unseen loudspeakers, and dared to poke his head out of the trees to get a clear view of the sky. Projections were shown of the tributes who had died that day; he watched the whole thing anxiously, knowing that if anything had happened to the girl from District 12, it would come at the end.

The pictures came agonizingly slow. The girls from 2 and 3, the boy from 5, the girls from 6 and 7, the boy from 8, both from 9, the girl from 10. Nine tributes gone. Finally, after the last portrait had been shown, the sky went dark again and the anthem faded out. It took a minute to hit him, but then he realized: Aurora wasn’t among the dead. He hadn’t noticed that he’d been holding his breath; the next one he took filled him with relief. _Aurora is still alive._

He wrapped his insulated jacket a little tighter around him as he settled back into his hiding spot. “I love you,” he whispered, hoping that wherever she was in the arena, she’d hear his message.


End file.
